


M is for Motivation

by cowboykylux



Series: Mob Boss Kylo Ren AU [7]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Flirting, Married Couple, Mob Boss Kylo Ren, Murder Family, Shameless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25051792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: It doesn’t take much to motivate him, it never has. Not when you were dating -- and not now that you’re married it doesn’t take much.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Series: Mob Boss Kylo Ren AU [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814407
Kudos: 26





	M is for Motivation

You used to joke, that the mere thought of your naked body would be enough to get Kylo to do anything, go anywhere, meet anyone. He was notoriously anti-social, your husband; wanting nothing to do with people or places or things. He only ever wanted to talk with you, walk with you, be with you.

When you walk into the closet and see he’s still not dressed in his formal tuxedo for the evening, instead wearing a comfy black t-shirt and a lazy pair of jeans, you cross your arms over your chest, already knowing how this is going to end.

“We’re going to be late.” You say, swaying your hips as you walk closer closer closer, as you stand in front of him, uncrossing your arms to brace yourself on the backrest of the chair Kylo’s straddling. 

He looks far too big for it, he’s huge, he’s massive – you want him.

“We don’t have to go.” Kylo says, licking his lips, already getting turned on.

It doesn’t take much to motivate him, it never has. Not when you were dating, and not now that you’re married it doesn’t take much. You lean down enough for him to catch the dip of your cleavage, and when he stands up, scraping the chair against the floor in his haste, you grab his jaw in your hand to prevent him from shoving his nose down between your breasts.

“It’s our own gala, of course we have to go.” You tell him, guiding his face to yours, sliding your tongue against his own, “And we’re going to be late.”

He crowds you, walks you back back back against the closet wall, picks you up and settles you on one of the sturdy shelves on the wall unit, stands between your thighs. His hands push your dress up slowly slowly slowly, the thick plush velvet giving way under his veiny hands. The muscles in his forearms work for you, and you tip your head back so he can worry his teeth at your throat.

“Let them wait.” Kylo grumbles, cock so hard in those jeans, “They’ll be better for it, the waiting. Getting to see you is a treat, a privilege. Make them wait, it’s better that way.”

You hum and he sighs softly when your hand drifts over his crotch, presses down to give him some friction as he ruts his cock against your thigh, your hand.

“You’re only saying this to stall.” You muse with a grin, pulling back enough to bite gently at his lower lip.

“Me?” He grunts, hips still grinding his clothed cock against your body, “Stalling?”

“Kylo.” You warn playfully, and he only chuckles darkly in your ear, before that chuckle dissolves into a moan.

“I don’t know what to wear, maybe we should wear nothing.” He suggests, and now it’s your turn to moan, because he’s wrenched your legs open enough to slip a few fingers past your panties.

“We’d have a room full of dead donors if I walked into that banquet hall wearing nothing.” You point out, spreading your legs wider for him to get better access.

“Maybe, but we already have their money, so what use are they to us now?” Kylo counters, and that seems to be the final straw, because you’re shaking your head with a hiccupped laugh and looping your arms around his strong shoulders, kissing him and letting him kiss you back.

And if you arrive to the gala an hour late, covered in bruises and hickeys and marks, with the barest hint of a limp and a wince when you sit, well. No one seems to pay any mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the NSFW Alphabet prompt: M


End file.
